Free Monster High 4: Back and Deader Than Ever by Lisi Harrison

Dally finalists. Well, really, you’re our favorite, but we’re not allowed to say that or the suits will get pissed. Ha!” he boomed, and then cough-cleared his throat. “I’m thinkin’ Frenchie and I will swingby and see you first…. Let’s see… maybe… Thursday the twenty-third? Hey, B, is Thursday
bueno
for
vous
?”
    “
Mais oui
,” answered the woman, her silken cashmere voice a welcome change from his rough poly blend. “Please, uh, Dickie, call me Brigitte.”
    “Super! Okay, huddle up. Here’s the game plan: We’ll scope out the school, make sure it’s not haunted—ha!—and acquaint ourselves with the freaks that are gonna rep our new shoe. The sicker the better. Ugly’ll work too. Ha! Blame that
Jersey Shore
show—gritty’s the new glossy.” He coughed and then spit. “I mean, who ever would have thought that Dickie Dally would merge with some uptight European broad? Ha!”
    Okay, Clawd would never say “broad.” One time he called her “babe” in front of his football buddies, and she popped his pigskin with her fangs. This was dead real! Lala felt floaty and heavy at the same time, like an anchor being pulled through choppy waters. She waved frantically, trying to get Uncle Vlad’s attention.
    He tossed his magazine.
What?
he mouthed. “Tell me! Who is it?”
    Lala waved again, this time urging him to be quiet. But that only made him mouth
what?
even more.
    “Lala?” She heard a different male voice on the line.
    “Uh, yes?”
    “I’m Red, Mr. Dally’s assistant. He had to jump onto another call. And it seems as though we’ve lost Ms. T’eau to a bad connection. Anyhoo, congratulations on being a finalist!” He sounded Midwestern, like Dickie, but in a less coarse, more cottony way.
    A giant smile spread across Lala’s face. “Thanks.” She giggled shyly. And then to Vlad she mouthed,
T’eau Dally!
    He began jumping up and down, his hands clasped together in thanksgiving. “My fang shui worked! It worked! I moved the laptop into your success corner, and it worked.”
    “Shhhhhhh,” Lala hissed, still smiling.
    “Okay, now jot this down,” said Red.
    Lala grabbed her deep purple lip liner and rolled up her sleeve. “Ready…”
1 of 3 finalists… Thurs @ 12ish… I must pik couple 2 present to DD and BT… if win will get national ad camp… If we win, renamed toe-dally high… 1 mill bucks     
    “Got it. Okay. Thanks. See you Thursday.” Lala disconnected the call and tossed her phone onto the cracked-leather ottoman. “I’m a finalist! They like me the best! I did it!”
    She shouted loud enough for her father to hear. But the only one who rushed to her side was Uncle Vlad. He pulled her into a sandalwood-scented hug and took her with him on his invisible trampoline. She couldn’t wait to tell her father. If winning a contest and getting a million-dollar donation for her school didn’t prove her worthy of a future, nothing would.
    “Me and Clawd are going to represent the T’eau Dally merger in a national ad campaign!” she announced while jumping.
    “Eeeeeee!” squealed Uncle Vlad.
    “I know!” she squealed back, delighting in the perfection of it all.
    A werewolf and a vampire. Did it get more merge-y than that? They were T’eau-Dal opposites. Furry and freezing. Meaty and lean. Pack man and lone girl. She imagined the shoot….
A limousine pulls up to a studio in midtown Manhattan. The driver jumps out to open the door. Her pale, stockinged leg emerges. Lala steps out wearing a violet wrap and Harry Winston diamonds. Mr. D is waiting on the sidewalk as a sunglassed and mohawked Clawd emerges. In the studio, makeup artists decide their job is pointless—Lala’s so beautiful already. Stylists agree that her own clothes are better than anything they could have pulled. Mr. D turns off his phone and unclips his earpiece, not wanting to miss a second of this experience. He sips Perrier as he watches his daughter, in awe of her fabulousness. Lala